Tell me about it
by ourfreewill
Summary: The idea of a blind date was moronic. You don't know what they look like, how old they are; You have to rely on whoever was setting you up to know you well enough to find a suitable match; You've never met them before, and have no idea if they're going to launch into a tirade about their bitch ex, but reminisce about all the good times, then declare they're moving on. Yeah no shit.


Art: here

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This was the last time Michael was letting Anna set him up on a blind date.

The whole idea of a blind date was moronic.1. You don't know who they are, what they look like, how old they are; 2. You have to rely on whoever was setting you up, which in this case was his sister who he sees once or twice a month (not including awkward encounters on the street), to know you well enough to find a suitable match; 3. You've never met them before, and have no idea if they're going to launch into a tirade about how much of a bitch their ex was, yet reminisce about all the good times, but then declare that they are moving on. Yeah, no shit.

Michael rolled his eyes for the twentieth time this evening. He had sent four messages to the 'Daniel' he was meant to be meeting, yet no avail. It was a simple enough plan. They'd meet at the coffee shop, go to dinner, and then decide if they're sick of the sight of each other before making arrangements for a second date, or parting ways forever. But apparently not simple enough for this twat. One hour and a bloody half late and still no sign of existence, apart from his sister's insistence.

Michael's phone made the generic tone, and vibrated against his thigh. He rapidly pulled it out to check his messages before a wave of disappointment crashed down.

Text from Daniel? Nope.

A notification from facebook instead asked him whether he knew a friend, of a friend, of an auntie's cat.

With the twenty-first eyeroll, and the tenth sigh, he slouched back into the wooden chair. Officially having given up all hope. Now he wasn't filled with anxieties, and annoyance he finally managed to get a good look around. For a Friday night it was strangely busy. There were people filling most of the tables at the front, and even more squashed themselves onto the sofas at the back. The shop had wooden floors, with a raging fire at one side. Snow flakes hung down just above the top of the fire place, dancing around above the heat.

He drooped even further into his seat, sipping away at the now luke warm almond milk latte, in a plain red cup - the shock horror! He was so wrapped up in grumpily drinking his coffee he didn't realise the blond barista to the right of him until he tapped his shoulder, making him jump and sit up.

The barista set down a plate with a flapjack and a steaming cup of coffee.

"You seemed sad." He said, and walked around to sit in the opposite chair. "On the house, by the way."

Michael nodded and tentatively broke a bit of the flapjack off.

"I got stood up." Michael said glumly.

"That sucks."

"Tell me about it."

The barista smirked. "I will. Once I met this really cute guy and we made plans, but he didn't show. I come back here to offer a hand to my brother who was covering me for the night, only to find my date with this woman on his arm."

Michael eyes widened from behind his cup, "seriously? What did you do?"

"Nothing. Gabriel on the other hand, decided that he needed a night from hell."

"Serves him right I guess."

And that's how Michael wound up spending the rest of the night sat on the counter of the shop talking with the blond barista, or Luce as he announced.

At the end of the night Michael was helping Luce close up the shop, after endless insistence arguing it was only fair to make up for the coffee and flapjack. He had just about finished sweeping the floor, when he caught Luce looking at him and smirking from across the room.

"You know, my apartment's just upstairs."

And with those words Michael found himself lying next to a virtual stranger in bed, after having, admittedly, great sex.

"I should probably go. I don't really do this." Michael said, pushing himself up from the bed with a wince.

But Luce had a counter offer. "You know, I have cake downstairs that's going to go to waste if nobody eats it."

"Bribing me with cake, seriously?"

"Yep. Cake and sex. I'd say that was a pretty good night."

"Fine, but there better be chocolate." Michael sighed for the twenty-second time and mumbled, "I'm not some kind of cake whore."


End file.
